Now the other eyebrow raised.  It is rare for anyone to respect the often-rude goblin.  Hesitating a moment, the goblin responded, "Sit and join me.  The steak is bloody and the wine is strong. Enjoy."

Taking a seat, the elf pours himself a cup of wine. "Won from your spoils?" he asks, taking a sip of the drink.

Oskyx grunts in acknowledgement.  "So, I've seen you around.  You're the one that fights like that Svari character, with Magic Missile and magical edges.  A brave strategy, considering the fact that Svari has more powerful missiles and alerted the competitors to the strategy long ago.  Or a foolish one, I can't tell."  Oskyx cut a large chunk of steak from the hunk in front of him and began chewing on it, continuing to speak as he does.  "I must admit that you've caught the new recruits mostly by surprise, though.  I haven't laughed so hard at so many fools in a while."

Oskyx raises his wine glass and speaks before washing down the steak with the strong wine.  "Well done there, my friend."

The elf shrugs. "Well, I must admit, I haven't had much of an opportunity to do much else. Nobody that closed in within range managed to close in without downing me."

He sighs, finishing his glass and pouring himself another. "I consider myself more of a paraelementalist, like you. I got a little too confident in my fight against that cleric, though."

  Oskyx shrugs.  "Eh, I don't see myself as a para-elementalist.  I see myself more as an expert in causing pain in all its delicious flavors."

  Oskyx stands, "Well, I have a promised duel against a cleric myself.  Hopefully it will turn out better than your own."  Turning, Oskyx hurries out of the tavern, leaving Nines to pay for his own meal.

Trindon enters the famous Pub for the first time. He had grown tired of dining at the more elegant locations and wanted to mingle more with his own people. The burly human - about 5'10" 220 pounds of (mostly) muscle, sat down at one of the barstools and quietly ordered a mug of ale and some meat, vegetables, an egg, and the fruit that was in season. His wicked and well used greatsword was strapped to his back as he casually looked around to gauge his fellow gladiators.

Rhakar:  Hey Paserri, I'm a cleric too!

Paserri: ...What?

Rhakar: Yeah!  I think I worship that same horrible thing you do!  I'm not sure!

Paserri: WHAT?!
This message was last edited by the player at 03:34, Thu 05 May 2011.

Bumping to see if anyone would like to post "in character."

The Bug looks around at the strangely empty Pub.

Gideon steps into the pub, wings wide and arms open.

Ah, the nectar of the gods! Bartender, some mead!

The Bug takes a seat and asks the serving wench for some meat and wine.

Requiem walks over to Mantis. Greetings insect. I noticed that you are eating meat and drinking wine. I noticed that you are consuming mammal food. Why is this? His voice is deep and is made up of sounds that sound like the clashing and grinding of various metals and stones.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:53, Sat 27 Aug 2011.

A shadowy figure sits in the corner, listening to everything, but saying nothing.

In reply to Requiem (msg #30):

"This place serves mammals primarily. The owner would likley take offense if I where to eat his patrons instead of the food offered.", Mantis answers.

Mantis delicately cleans one 'hand', his multiple mouth parts moving with swift precision as he looks over the being who approached.

Mantis points his clean hand at the fellow and asks, "What do you eat clockman?"

Requiem sits down across from the bug. I have no such weakness. I only require a drenching in blood every now and then to keep my joints from creaking. The only indicator of his bad attempt at humor is a deep chuckle voiced by two granite slabs grinding against each other.

"Isss that thunder outssside, or isss the metal man laughing?" Kruk quipped.

Mantis cocks his head one way, then the other as he studies the clockwork man.

"What do you run on? Springs?", Mantis asks.

Requiem shakes his head. I have no springs or gears. I guess you could say that I am magical in nature, though that doesnt give me any magical properties or capabilities. I had to ean those myself. Many years of training with the aged monks of the dragon. He tiltshis head to show his thought, but his face remains stoicly unchanged.

Corthan enters the Pub after a hard day's work. The human druid, roughly 6 feet tall with a rail-thin body, goes right over to a table in the back corner and orders some ale from the closest barmaid. Next to Corthan, sitting on the floor now, is a 7 foot tall nasty-looking dinosaur, named Bob. Bob is a fleshraker that has proved his worth several times over.

"Soooo......something that disrupts magic would stop you, at least for a time?", Mantis asks.

Requiem laughs, a grating thing to be sure. I have never see such happen but that is not to say it wouldn't work. I am no expert on magic. I find it a soft avenue.

The haunched, black robbed figure walks into the tavern. He does not look around or address any of the other combatants.

He simply walks over to the bar, orders a bottle of wine, a fine, dark-red vintage, and a mug.

He then takes the two over to a large padded chair by the fireplace of the small establishment and sits down, facing the crackling fire. He pours himself a glass of wine sips on it silently.

Byron can be seen drinking a pint. He is chatting up the barmaid, and enjoying himself immensely. Strangely, he has no shoes on.

Andrew stops just inside the door and surveys the crowd.  Spotting Byron, he walks up, "Ah, Byron.  I knew I'd find you here.  Up to your old tricks again I see," Andrew winks at the barmaid.  "Do tell me how things have been with you.  Last I saw you, we had just brought you back after you became a fine bloody mist..."  He pretends to brush off dust particles and wears a large smile on his face.

In reply to Andrew Fosher (msg #42):

"Well I couldn't rightly be expected to stay and fight with you after *that* incident. I mean, a tower full of wizards, and yet somehow they cast blade barrier? It was just a bit too odd for me. That and no one really likes becoming a fine mist." Byron shifts uncomfortably in his seat. "I figured I'd go somewhere safe like this."